


Caffeine Cold

by whatisrydenidontknowher



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2461889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatisrydenidontknowher/pseuds/whatisrydenidontknowher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't like each other. It's just the aesthetic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caffeine Cold

Pete was a regular. That was putting it lightly. He came in nearly three times a day, around his class schedule at the college, buying a coffee for each time. If it could even be called a coffee with less than a gram of it under all the milk and sugar. He didn't drink coffee in his coffee exactly. If not for the physical withdrawl that came with needing caffeinated beverages, Pete wouldn't even notice if he was handed sweetened milk that had been shoved under the steamer.  
  
That's what Patrick had hypothesized anyway.  
  
He heard the door's bell jingle but something let him know it was Pete. Possibly his sickening cloud of charisma that always went crazy when he got to see 'his favorite barista wrapped up in adorable cardigans'. Pete was infatuated. Patrick was crushing. It wasn't a secret to anyone.  
  
But they'd both insist it was simply the scenario making it look like that. Not at all the fact that Patrick wrote lyrics to songs he'd heard through the day or a small little 'have a nice day, petey :)' as Pete nearly dropped his cup every time he read it.  
  
It was simply the aesthetic.  
  
"If you don't put your number on the cup today, I will draw it on the fucking chalkboard for him."  
  
Patrick smacked furiously at Frank and grumbled under his breath incoherently. Frank just laughed and knocked Patrick's fedora off.  
  
See the thing was they'd known each other about a month. Pete started coming in once the semester started and Patrick had been working there a while for the lovely student loans he was working off. That and trying to not starve. But Patrick remained his barista, Pete remained a customer, and besides one or two chats over the counter on a slow day, no one really tried to make their moves. Okay, Pete flirted endlessly really. Patrick was just as awkward as all get out.  
  
"The usual, Rickster," Pete cooed, striding to the counter with the exact amount in hand (along with the extra for the tip jar). Patrick gave a nod and grabbed a cup, scribbling Pete's name on the side before pausing.  
  
He should do it. What was there to lose? He hurriedly put his cell number along with a little 'xo' before huffing and preparing the milk with a touch of caffeine for the lovable Wentz.  
  
Patrick finished it up. Pete grabbed his cup.  
  
Patrick's heart almost melted at the grin that broke onto the kid's face.  
  
"Wow, if I wasn't your obviously professional customer, I'd think you were hitting on me."  
  
"Get out of my cafe you moron." Patrick was blushing and under the hood he could see Pete's face was lighting up a similar shade.  
  
Frank patted Patrick's back with a giant grin. "There we go! Finally, you can get some action."  
  
"Excuse you, I just gave him my number."  
  
"Tape a condom to the cup tomorrow," Frank sneered.  
  
"That's unsanitary. Why don't you try those techniques with the cherry haired art student?"  
  
"Backing off!" He laughed, taking the bus tub and running back into the kitchen. Patrick just rolled his eyes.  
  
The next time Pete came in that day, he was grinning ear to ear. The afternoon rush had died down, leaving Patrick open enough to just start making Pete's coffee. He offered a smile over to Pete, receiving one back as he shoved the cup under the steamer wand.  
  
"Trick, what kind of food do you like?" Pete asked like it wasn't obvious at all why he was doing so. Patrick almost burnt his hand on the machine in response.  
  
"Shit. Uh--  I guess diners usually? That or pastries..." Patrick trailed off. He could easily take advantage and say some big and fancy sort of arrangement. But truthfully, his lifestyle had him hooked on simple pleasures. Pete nodded, making a mental note and bouncing on his heels.  
  
Patrick quickly wrote a Joy Division lyric on Pete's cup to match the boy's shirt. He handed it to him and proceeded to quickly pretend he had other work as to avoid Pete's blinding smile. He could feel Frank staring him down from the break room.  
  
"Hey Patrick can you help me uh. Something," Frank announced. Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose as a few customers raised a brow at him.  
  
"If you're going to bother me about Pete," he started.  
  
"What else would I do?" Frank laughed, falling back onto the couch. "What'd he ask? Date planned?"  
  
"I think he's waiting until I'm off my shift to call, obviously."  
  
"So he  _did_  ask about date plans."  
  
"Oh my god..." Patrick leaned back against the wall, scrubbing his face. "He asked what kind of food I liked. I just said diners and--"  
  
"So 60's right?"  
  
"What? No shut up, I won't tell you anything if you keep interrupting."  
  
Frank motioned zipping his lip. Patrick sighed and went to attend to the register.  
  
Around closing time Pete came in once again, ordering a cider while Frank was at the register. Patrick was on to clean up the shop tonight,  
sweeping the back where the couches were. Pete came around the corner,  
smiling as Patrick looked up.  
  
"You know I could take you out right after work instead of the whole in between," Pete offered. Patrick tugged his sleeves over his hands and fidgeted, refusing to make eye contact. "I mean the cardigan and the hat? My favorite things."  
  
"These are my work clothes," Patrick said with a shrug. "I'd like to go home and change. Besides, you have my number now."  
  
Pete lit up like Christmas lights, sipping his cup with a nod. "That I do."  
He turned and headed out the door, leaving Patrick a very flustered mess with his still not swept coffee shop.  
  
"Trick, I'll take care of the cleaning," Frank offered. "Everyone else went home already. Go wait for your phone  
call."  
  
Patrick beamed. He leaned the broom against the nearest table and hurried over to Frank, planting a  
kiss on his cheek and bolting for the door.  
  
\--  
  
No call came in that night. Patrick stayed up later than he normally would. He put on his nicest cardigan, the one he never even wore to work. But Pete never called.  
  
He held onto the benefit of the doubt strongly, because something could have come up. He would see Pete later in the day, so he could find out then.  
  
Pete didn't come in before his classes. Patrick was on edge the entirety of the morning. Brendon worked today which made things easier. As much of a loudmouth kid as he was, when Patrick was out of it he managed to pick up what was left behind. Patrick got himself together pretty well by the end of the lunch rush, only to feel it fall apart. Pete was walking in, and he looked downright miserable.  
  
Patrick felt sick. He'd been selfish enough to think Pete had stood him up on purpose. He put on a sympathetic smile as Pete walked up to the register. He set down the exact amount, put a dollar in the tip jar, and moved along, not even batting an eye at Patrick.  
  
Ouch.  
  
"Hey, you feelin' alright?" Brendon asked, leaning over the counter to talk to Pete. They were friends, maybe Brendon was better for this job. Patrick just made his drink. He was the barista, not his counselor.  
  
It was all aesthetic.  
  
Patrick paused as he wrote Pete's name on the cup, attempting to quickly scribble the bat-heart ("Bartskull, Patrick," Pete had corrected him before) that was on some of his jackets, and apparently a tattoo on his stomach. He hadn't seen it. Though he wanted to, he'd admit.  
  
Pete shrugged at Brendon and took his cup as Patrick set it down. Turning on his heels, he left. No writing in his notebook as he chatted up whoever walked by. No calling little comments over at Patrick as he worked. He just left.  
  
Patrick felt _really_  sick.  
  
\--  
  
Pete didn't come in for a week. Patrick refused to take a day off, the chance that Pete walk in with his smiling face. He never did. Brendon said Pete wouldn't tell him why he was so upset. Patrick didn't have any other resources. So he was stuck.  
  
Two days later, Frank called Patrick back into the break room once the shop was dead enough to leave alone. Their new girl Vicky worked with the machines, making sure everything was covered. Patrick followed Frank, sitting on the couch and slouching.  
  
"So, I've heard something. Kind of, he said she said but," Frank said, sitting next to Patrick. "Gerard, the red-head art student? I finally started talking to him and--"  
  
"Frank, I'm happy for you and everything but if you're gonna tell me something in too much detail again, I swear."  
  
Frank laughed. "Oh my god, Patrick have some faith in me. ...Although yes. Great sex. He's a huge bitch."  
  
Patrick grimaced and shoved at Frank.  
  
" _Anyways_. His brother is Pete's ex. And I know that's. Weird, but the thing is they're still friends and Pete _has_ told Mikey why he's upset. He found a new coffee shop man. He thinks you don't like him."  
  
Patrick looked at him baffled. "What? I gave him my number why would he think--?"  
  
Frank pressed a finger to Patrick's lips and set a piece of paper on his thigh. "That's his number. Call him."  
  
"Hey not to ruin the moment but it's a little too crowded for me up here!" Vicky called, looking into the break room doorway with an expression that read "help".  
  
Frank hurried out to help make drinks, leaving Patrick by himself. He considered calling Pete at that exact moment but he knew actually working his shift would be a better idea. It could wait.  
  
\--  
  
Patrick insisted that he close up shop. Since it was empty and quiet he could actually pull his thoughts together. Once everything was locked up and cleaned he pulled out the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.  
  
The dial tone made Patrick jump with each ring, until finally a click sounded on the other line.  
  
"Hello?" Pete's voice mumbled on the other end and Patrick felt himself relax finally.  
  
"Pete? It's Patrick, hey!"  
  
"Trick wh-- how did you get my..."  
  
"Frank got it from Gerard's brother and gave it to me. I mean, I could have asked Brendon but it was more I was told to call you. You've... Been gone a week. I heard you were stopping somewhere else for your coffee and," Patrick took a second to breathe. "You told Gerard's brother that I didn't like you. Did I do something?"  
  
Pete stayed silent. Patrick felt his nerves start to flare up again.  
  
"Pete are you--?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm still here."  
  
Patrick paused, hearing rustling on the other end. Was he in bed at 8pm?  
  
"You gave me a number that was disconnected," Pete started. "I thought you were turning me down."  
  
"What? I gave you this one didn't I? This is my cell I--"  
  
"No you gave me a different one, Trick..." Patrick heard rustling again, as well as a drawer open. Pete read off ten digits, and Patrick immediately curled in on himself.  
  
"Oh my god," Patrick groaned. "Pete, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry I--"  
  
"Was it not on purpose?" Pete asked, his normal edge seeming to show just slightly.  
  
"I got a new phone last month. And I was so nervous writing that, I must have blanked. That's my old number. Oh my god."  
  
There was a good ten second pause before Pete burst out laughing on the other end. Patrick covered his face with his hat.  
  
"You're fucking kidding," Pete said between small gasps of air. "Trick I've had such a shitty week, I totally thought that was your way of turning me down or something. When wow, it was just you being fucking adorable and messing up."  
  
Patrick got dizzy hearing Pete laugh over the line. His face was as red as his cardigan at this point. "So.. you still wanna take my number or did I mess that up?"  
  
"Not at all," Pete said with another small giggle. "No no, Trick I'm taking you out tonight, no excuses. Where are you right now?"  
  
"I'm still at the shop, I closed up I... I can meet you somewhere or head home and you come there I--"  
  
"Work clothes?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Sorry, the going home and changing privilege has been revoked seeing as you doing that last time caused all of this."  
  
Patrick winced.  
  
"I'm teasing you, Patrick. You got a favorite diner?"  
  
Patrick grinned, covering his mouth with his sleeve. "Yeah, I do... It's a little hard to find though."  
  
"Not a problem. Stay at the shop, I'll be there soon."  
  
Pete hung up before Patrick could even say okay. His hands were shaking and he was dizzy from his own body heat, embarrassed and excited all at once. He really needed to thank Frank. Patrick waited out the front of the shop, pulling down the security gate to finish locking up. Pete strode up to the closed shop, beaming at Patrick.  
  
"Hey," he said plainly, offering a hand. Patrick laughed softly and took it, lacing his fingers.  
  
"Hey."  
  
 He really didn't mind how cheesy this was anymore.


End file.
